


Legend of Zelda: Botw, The Awakening

by TeaWithCara



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21926005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaWithCara/pseuds/TeaWithCara
Summary: A short story of the opening of BOTW in narrative form.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 6





	Legend of Zelda: Botw, The Awakening

From the dreamless darkness of non-existence, he stirred. Slowly the long-dormant faculties of his mind began in motion, but not without great difficulty. The reality of his present state left him questioning his existence. He didn't know why he was now being drawn into self-awareness. Warmth and peace prevailed there in the realm of existence; however a foreboding icy cold crept up and began gnawing.   
After flinching away, he desired to return to the kind darkness. However, an external player was stirring him to wakefulness: a sound was calling, soft and indistinct. Originally it was just faint mumbles that hinted of pattern and melody, but it slowly gained more definition with each repetition.   
As his consciousness began to grow, he knew something was horrifyingly amiss. An overwhelming sensation of borderline panic ensued his consciousness. There was something he failed to accomplish that was extremely important; something only he could do. The understanding turned to sorrow. He struggled to contemplate what he left unaccomplished, but it only frustrated him; his mind would not allow coherent contemplation.   
One faint detail of his failed task that did seep through his half-dormant mind: darkness. For in a brief moment, he thought it was such he was presently experiencing and begun to panic. But, he realized quickly, they were fundamentally different. The one recalled was terrifying, hellish, clamorous, and turbulent. The one being experienced presently was comforting and peaceful, if not a little mysterious.   
Somewhere a spark of confidence glinted from within. The terrifying darkness, he knew, could be faced and defeated. The source of this confidence was entirely unknown; yet somehow it dwelled in the core of his soul. With the panic subsiding, and peace returning to his consciousness, his mind drifted languidly; not caring about anything, and only just musing of his self awareness.

After an unmeasured time, he realized the sound around him was growing in strength. He began to recognize it as a voice coming from another being like himself. The words were not known, or even recognized as such, but were just sweet and caring mumblings.  The sound grew and strengthened as it took on an air of frantic worry. A gentle light grew on the horizon of his world, and then to piercing ray in his darkness like a beacon of warmth.   
Curiosity roused him as the voice unexpectedly rendered nostalgic. Through some mysterious design that convinced him, he knew this person. Truly this is a voice that belonged to a woman he was intimate with and cared for deeply; however, such is where the recognition ceased. While straining his mind to function, he searched deep within his scant memory only to reel away; pain, horror, and desperation overwhelmed him. A part of him was rent away, leaving only a shattered husk. His consciousness recoiled, dwindled, and threatened to wane into oblivion.   
The woman’s voice faltered with frightened anxiety at his present dire state. She watched as his consciousness teetered on a precipice, threatening to topple, and disappear. With desperate, compassionate love she reached to embrace him only to be hindered millimeters away. She fought her constraints and urgently cried out to him. His wavering consciousness felt her nearby reach, finding her irresistible, and leaned into her embrace. There he entered a safe, warm, and content state; not unlike a cradled child. The previous horror he encountered faded and became irrelevant. Sorrow and love radiated from her as his consciousness slowly rebounded in her arms.   
The woman gave what strength that was possible, but she violently pulled away by an unseen force before a desired completion. What transfered was enough to strengthen him to full wakefulness. She fought desperately to return to him, but failed. He felt a malicious, evil being stirring with interest in her exploits; however, the connection was brief, and she quickly detached from him for his sake.  
“... Open your eyes…,” she said gently with an air of exhausted relief. He could not resist her plea. Without much contemplation, and without his bidding, a heaviness came to him that brought his spirited mind back to his body. An ominous and ghostly siren song sang around him and dispelled his desire to remain sedated.   
Whiteness engulfed his world. “... Open your eyes…,” she called again from afar. Blurred shapes of blue and white spirited into existence , and his eyes strained to make sense of what was before them.   
“Open your eyes…” She said again sounding so wonderfully close to him. His eyes were open, he knew, but they could not see well enough to know what was before him. Sensations of laying down on something hard and wet came to him. His body recognized their functions, and how to operate immediately even if his mind slowly began to become aware of the ability to command. Slowly his eyes focused on what hang above him: there were several sources of a soft blue lights set in a circle that gentle hummed and slowly blinked in greater intervals.   
“...Wake up, Link…” her coaxing voice resounded through to the core of his being, stirring long forgotten emotions; an insatiable curiosity to wander and explore all that the world could contain ignited in his soul. Such bellowed up and overflowed all his aspiration.  
The relaxing warmth the water waned, it began to drain and a chill grew around him. There was no going back to the familiar darkness that he came from, the world outside will be greeted despite what it could hold for him. He resolved to discover what lay ahead, regardless whether he remembered where he came from. There was something he was tasked to do, and something she called him for. There surely must be a way to uncover her identity or something to help him remember.   
One bit of information that he did recall spontaneously was his name: Link. Had the woman called out another name he would have known it did not belong to him; it with familiarity, and spoke to the core of his being. Yes, his name is Link. The revelation relieved him, his memories could, perhaps eventually if not entirely, return. 

Link’s long-dormant body rebelled against the command to his muscles for animation. A hand was raised and flexed within his eyesight as he contemplated the reaction and sensations around him. The room he lay in was dark and a bit misty; the water he laid in was warm, but the room surrounding him was much colder. Whatever sustained the heat for him was ceased, and soon he would be shivering with cold. Grunting, Link gingerly and stiffly rose to a seated position, but not without difficulty, and a second attempt. He caressed and held the sides of his head as the contents spun and ached; he felt ill. To employ his attention away from his discomfort, he wiggled his toes and flexed his legs. Empty and ravenous as his stomach was, he preferred if the scant contents did not materialize.   
Link observed that his skin was not entirely regular in hue: several patches of pinkish-red burn marks streaked across large parts of his body, in addition to various sizes of scars. Some scars were older and fainter, while some were newer and either slightly wealed or grooved. The red patches were brighter, slightly stiff and, seemed different in origin.   
One such red mark that Link discovered was on his left rib cage. The scar started on his side, near his elbow, and tapered off in a slightly upward motion for approximately twenty centimeters. He traced it gently with his right hand as far possible. The wound was more than skin deep: there was a distinct dip in the flesh where parts of muscles were absent; it tugged and resisted him as he moved, occasionally causing pangs. He wondered what occurred to leave a lasting impression on his flesh. When he tried to force his memory to work, it only brought forth more aching and glimpses of raw anguish; it caused him to cease. He contemplated the memory might be better left undiscovered.

After a time, the illness improved and the swaying of Link’s torso slowed, along with the spinning of his head. The cold of the room began to chill his body. Bleary-eyed, he glanced around the dark domed room examining the emptiness. There were regular design features patterned around the room centering around the oblong basin in which he sat; which was just big enough for a full-grown person to lay. He thought it beautiful in its own otherworldly aesthetic, especially when the mist was considered into the design.   
Off to one side was a faint blue ring of light; it was about his height off the ground. The color was the same that radiated from the ceiling. Although the purpose of the ring seemed very different. From the right side of the ring, there a faint, but rather large, outline of what could be considered a door; it stood blocked but also beckoned him to approach.   
Feeling fit to attempt to move, slowly Link crawled to the edge and sat there after swinging his legs over the edge. The world still spun slightly, his legs still stiff and weak. His body felt lopsided and unbalanced. But his determined curiosity put him on his unsteady feet. He slid off the edge of the rim and stood there testing his balance; he was satisfied, and a bit relieved, when there was little threat of falling.   
Link looked again to the blue ring at the edge of the room. That is where he needed to go, at least for a start and then somewhere else afterward. He hesitated, almost fearful of what could lay ahead, but the woman quickly came to mind. She restored him, had he failed her in the time before? The answer seemed apparently to be so but even then he was unsure. Perhaps he was just a small part of a larger party of actors that failed. Either way, she seemed to be trapped and in need of help, would he be able to find her? Questions brought on more apprehension, but he dashed them all away.   
Confident in his present strength, Link slowly started for the blue light ring. The only sound to violate the dark quiet that could be heard was the wet padding of his feet; the sound amused him as to how the slapping sounded, so novel it seemed compared to the quiet that prevailed about him. The scar on his back panged slightly as he began to shiver from the chill; he was obliged to press the scar, with his right hand reaching around his front, to cease the ache.   
The mysterious blue ring of light was a part of a stone-like pedestal that stood about chest high to Link. He wondered of its purpose and design; after observing it from side to side, then gingerly touched the blue light with a finger. It made a mechanical three note chime causing him jump, and shift back slightly, from the suddenness.   
The blue light brightened briefly, the inner portion of the ring elevated, and then rotated slightly while creating a stone-on-stone grinding sound; afterward, a rectangle within the raised part flipped revealing an eye. After it angled up nearly parallel to him then casually unlocked from the base. Link mused on how curious the eye symbol seemed, but he did know it was slightly recognizable as something important.   
“That is a Sheikah Slate. Take it,” the woman said, almost gleefully. “It will help guide you after your long slumber.” Her instruction comforted him. Link took the slate by the handle and held it lengthwise between his hands. The side opposite to the one with engraved eye design blinked to life; he flinched in surprise due to the suddenness of the appearance of a new Sheikah symbol. He immediately knew that the symbol and the slate were somehow, however faintly, familiar.   
Link was glad that things could be recognized regardless of his missing memories; it relieved him, maybe he would not always be an empty shell. Perhaps eventually real memories, not just instinct, could be returned; this gave him hope.

Off to the right, on the edge of the domed room, a door opened like the teeth of a jaw; it opened a way out of the present room into another. Link paused for a moment, gathering for his thoughts, then slowly made his venture to the door. He did not want to tax his strength and then find himself unable to move; although, some stores of energy existed, its level was unknown. Sustenance would need to be found soon, for ravenous hunger gnawed his insides.   
The second room was similar to the one Link egressed, despite clearly being a corridor to another. Dust gathered on the floor like sand. Three unlocked but bolted chests lay facing him among various crates, finding nothing else noteworthy, he bent to open the chests. Driving his body to flex in submission was difficult, and his muscles ached. He ignored the pang coming from his side, he refused to nurse it. The wound was completely healed despite it troubling him as he moved. Perhaps if disregarded it continuously, the constant trouble would cease.  
In one chest contained a well-worn, old tunic shirt slightly too small. In the other a pair of trousers in a similar condition. The clothes seemed designed for a shorter man of his build, perhaps they were meant for someone else. Regardless of proper ownership, he needed them. There was also a pair of soft-toed leather shoes that tied at the ankle and a belt with a couple pouches.   
He hung the Sheikah Slate from the belt a hook on his left side. The clothes and gear were not ideal, but adequate till others could be found. He shook the dust out of the garments and donned them. The chill of the room bothered him less with the clothes on.  
He adjusted the garments and gear, then decided to test his flexibility. Chiefly he wanted to warm and wake his muscles, but it was also to see his reach. He found himself able to reach most flexing goals and found warmth return to his chilled body. When he laced his fingers together and stretched them as high above his head as possible a sharp pain streaked from his side wound. He held the form as sweat appeared on his forehead; however, the muscles surrounding the wound began to shake, the pain did not subside. Breathing deeply, he intended to endure the growing ache, but his breath hitched and ceased.   
He relaxed the form and slumped to sit on a chest lid. Perhaps the enduring legacy of the previous wound would be more difficult to manage than he previously calculated. Nursing it would only weaken his left side; which could be deadly. He would need to strengthen his left side to overcome the weakness, but for now, there were more pressing matters.

Progressing to the other end of the corridor, Link saw another pedestal like the first, and it lit up as he approached. A blue Sheikah eye symbol in blue surrounded by an orange ring. “Hold the Sheikah Slate up the to the pedestal” the woman spoke again. “That will show you the way.”   
Link wondered if the woman was following and observing him secretly in the dark corners of the rooms. He glanced around but noticed there were no dark corners in which to hide. Also, occurring to his observation, it was not his ears that heard her voice but his thoughts; the woman was speaking directly to his mind. Link wondered if it were possible for her to read his thoughts, and if so, could she respond to them and his questions; however, it did not appear to be the case. She only spoke in reaction to his actions while not hearing his questions and other such thoughts. This disheartened him, for there was so many things she knew that he didn’t. One of which was her name; he could not recall her name.   
Like followed her advice, and the eye flashed with a blue light. With a soft mechanical voice, it spoke: “...authenticating…” Then, after a moment, it continued: “...Sheikah Slate confirmed.” The symbol appeared on the door, and, what appeared to be a locking bolt, jutted out. It allowed for another jaw-like door with teeth to rise. Instead of more darkness, a fresh sunlight filtered in.   
The light was bright causing Link to shade his eyes as he approached the threshold. But it was beautiful, clean and full of promise. He inhaled the air, it smelled fresh and green, as if a thunderstorm recently passed overhead. The thrill of this land brightened his expression.  
“Link... You are the light — ” she spoke, then with more determination in her voice: “ — Our light —  that must shine on Hyrule once again.” She hesitated, seemly choked with proud tears, then spoke: “Now go — ”   
Ahead of Link lay dusty stone stairs, but what lay ahead after that obstacle was unknown. What he did not know was cast aside by what he did: the woman desperately needed him, despite not knowing who she was. The woman knew, and apparently, cared for him. She was watching over him, and will probably give him more advice as he proceeded. With that knowledge, he surmised there was only one way to help her: by moving forward.   
“An adventure starts only in one way: by the first step taken,” he recalled to mind; someone he admired had once said the parable, but who, he couldn’t say. Such absent memories, he determined, would not deter him from discovering what could be recovered; both in the world and within himself. After tasting the open air again, he breathed deeply, rolled his shoulders, and sauntered forward over the threshold. 


End file.
